Palpatine sat calmly in his shuttle, even as he read the news of the death of his apprentice. The shame of it all, he thought, not without a hint of grief. He had been so promising, yet so foolish. So strong, yet so vulnerable at the same time. He would find another. Time would pass, and would bring him new apprentices. It had done so before, and it would again. For now he would see to the finalization of his new project, the Death star. In time though, he would have his revenge. The Jedi would pay for his crime, whether he need be hunted to the farthest reach of the galaxy or beyond. He would pay.
Mace Windu stood atop a hill overlooking a small town on Haruun Kal, his homeworld. Many buildings lay in ruins, after the devastation of the clone wars. The savagery of the war had extended even to this desolate fringe of the galaxy. Jungles had been burned down. Great craters pockmarked the landscape, where planetary bombardment had taken place. A few hundred yards from the village there stood a tall smoking mound, the bodies of the fallen, with at its feet a small collection of flowers and letters. It was a custom on his home world to burn on a pyre at night the bodies of those slain in battle, so that their spirit could join the stars and be at piece. Mace stood silently atop a hill, eyes closed. Before him lay a small pile of ashes, all that was left of Darth Vader. Mace had seen to his cremation. Jedi or Sith, when one linked to the Force departed from the living world, their bodies either left by themselves, or were cremated. Mace was deep in thought. He reviewed all that had happened in the past week, from his learning of the Death Star to his final duel with the Sith Lord. But one detail nagged at him still. Why hadn't Vader finished him on the platform? He could have killed him there and then, ended all opposition to his power…why hadn't he done it? Despite all his wisdom gathered over ages, Mace could not find the answer within himself.
In the meantime Palpatine was still loose. He would want revenge for his apprentice, that was the way of the Sith. Mace would have to see to his destruction before he could finalize his ultimate weapon or begin the forming of new Sith Lords. Not for the first time in his life, he found a nest of bitterness deep inside himself. A wild envy to throw it all to the wind. What mattered now anyway? He could stay here, where his true people needed him. For the first time in years, Mace Windu let his emotions sweep him away, there atop the small hill. A tear ran down his cheek and into the pile of ashes. No. He would see to the destruction of the Sith before all things. His mind full of future projects, he departed from the hilltop, leaving the ashes of the Sith Lord to drift away with the wind. Unheard by all, a silent whisper lifted from the ashes and departed towards the stars, a bodiless feeling, tasting at last the freedom it had long sought.
NOT THE END.